"We should do better if we had better workmen," replied the shoemaker, "but all the good hands are gone to the war.

One has to put up with stupid youngsters.

And as for the women! My wife must needs have a new gown for the procession, and bought necklets for the children.

Of course we must honor the dead, and they repay it often by standing by us when we want it--but what I pay for sacrifices no one can tell.

More than half of what I earn goes in them--" "In the first grief of losing my poor wife," said the baker, "I promised a small offering every new moon, and a greater one every year.